The Summer is Upon Us
by katieandthediamonds
Summary: A flower is taken- away from everything it wants, to be tossed in the wind, stomped on, and crushed. Her heart's been stolen, the love for her life long gone in her torture. The story of Spring Stevens, District 11, and her life through the 123rd Games.
1. Prologue: Love

**This story is for all of you- you know who you are, from Katie. **

**It's Spring's story. For all of you probably looking at this because you thought it was interesting, or you have my on author alert- you can follow. You see, all of us are addicted to the Hunger Games Roleplay Forum- made by Michela- and this is the story of my character. A bunch of us are making these stories, to re tell what has been told. It will all be explained, and hopefully I do good. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Panem, or the Hunger Games.**

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><p><em><strong>PROLOGUE- LOVE<strong>_

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><p>They say that death is the worst possible torture that could be put upon you. They say it's the one thing that tears apart people, burns their soul, and creates chaos in the universe.<p>

I'd like to prove them wrong.

Death is only an escape, never a punishment, especially in this country.

Especially for me.

I wish I could die right now- give up everything like my closest friends did hours ago. They no longer have to be trapped in this life, in the torturous place we come from. They can be free, they can be anything they have ever wanted to be, without limits.

Without anyone telling them what they must do.

For a few years, some would say my life was perfect. I had a beautiful, loving mother, a father that cared, and people surrounding me always to make my dreams come true.

Then, my mother became pregnant again, this time with twins. My father's true intentions came out with it. He never wanted any children, let alone three, come my newborn siblings.

He left without another word.

My tearful, weak mother named the children Cynthia, after her mother, and Marcus, after my father. She tried to stay strong, but her love had gone. Forever.

Years later, when I turned twelve, my mother contracted a sickness. An uncureable one at that, one that I never learned the name of.

Within weeks she died, leaving me and my two siblings, at that time eight, to fend for ourselves.

I did everything I could for the next years: getting jobs, selling my mother's things, moving around often. But, we never stole.

Nothing, except for an escape forever, could stop that one event. The picking of a name to change my existence forever. To be thrown in and out of things, none of which I cared or loved for. To be forced into a plan, a plan that was now never worth it.

Right now, I'm running. Away. To where? I don't know. Why? I have something I need to live for.

I could say I wish I died when I had the chance, but then I would be lying. I can't be selfish, not when I have a life that isn't mine on my hands.

I need to escape.

Death is precious. Death causes pain, but for only a moment.

Death brings joy; death gets you away.

It isn't the real torture in life, I'll tell you right now. There is one thing that hurts more then death.

Love.

Love can break your soul into pieces. Love has to happen with two. They don't have to give you what you can give them.

That's the real torture.

Love really breaks us apart- friendships disappear, mourning leaves, but the hurt always remains.

The worst part is that love could turn you into the greatest thing ever. It's... unpredictable.

Death is simple, like the cutting of a string. That's it- you're gone. There's no more torture for you to endure- it's all gone.

That's why I see death an escape. An escape some are afraid to take, one that people have no choice to take, or something people can't take.

Love is trapping.

That's why it's the worst torture in life.

You can never be free of love.

They tell me I'm beautiful, enchanting at that. They say I'm lovely, like the Spring's day.

That's what love told me once ago, at least. I'm starting to regret that. Should I? No. Must I? Yes.

But the Spring has gone. The beautiful flowers, the light rain that creates puddles perfect for jumping in has left. It isn't returning soon, not until the others follow.

Summer- the months of thunderstorms, scorching heat, and dryness has come. Perfection has left.

But, who wants to be perfect?

My name is Dianna Stevens.

Everyone calls me Spring, and you will too.

I'm seventeen years old, but I feel like a million.

I wish I could die, but I know I can't.

I've loved too many times.

Each time, its been lost.

This time isn't any different.

The pain will come, the torture will come.

They come with me wherever I go. But, they don't just go to me. It would be too easy that way, wouldn't it world?

Life is torture.

Death is freedom.

Love is pain.

Pain is fear.

I'm scared.

Should I?

Yes.

How can you not when you've had love taken away a hundred times?

Not death, love.

Always remember the true torture.

The truth of it all will get you through.

At least, that's what they told me.

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><p><strong>AN: How do you like so far? Please review my friends, it would totally make my day. :D **


	2. Chapter 1: Unlucky

**A/N: Hey guys! It's me here with a new chapter that's really long and stuff! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games, Panem, District 11, or a lot of stuff! **

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><p><em><strong>P<strong>ART **1**: **D**ISTRICT **E**LEVEN_

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><p><strong>Chapter 1- Unlucky<strong>

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><p>The end of my life began exactly a week before my sixteenth birthday.<p>

But, of course at the time I didn't expect it to be anything like that, just another year older.

It was March 14th; I remember vaguely what occured that would change my life.

Raising two kids in District 11 takes a lot of strain on your life, you see. I don't have much time to socialize, and a lot of times I look like one of those mutts- all raggedy and stuff- because I never have time to shower, and when I do I give the opportunity to one of my siblings.

So, March 14th was the day. I was looking through my mother's old things, as I did often. I couldn't take another tessarae for a week, and the supply I took almost three months ago has now ran out. We're low on everything as of now, and eating a few berries from the bushes outside the abandoned, secluded home we lived in in the middle of the woods was hardly enough for two growing children.

We could get more, since it's their first year in the reaping. But, I won't let them take tessarae, whatever they do. They each have one slip- one slip in comparison to the hundreds of thousands from other children in the District.

I? I have 23, and I'm only barely sixteen.

Anyway, I'm sitting in the portioned off corner of the home as mine- where we keep everything old of my mother's- looking for something new to possibly sell, at least to get us through the rest of the week and the next. They won't let us work right now, not in the week leading up to the reaping. It's some weird policy- I don't get it.

We've pretty much sold everything except a few items: her old bottle of sweet perfume, her wedding dress, a couple sapphire combs, and her old pearls. But, on this day, as I sift through the old objects in her jewelry box, I come across a compartment I've never seen before in my searches.

After a few moments I pry it open, and find something I've never seen before. Not on my mother, not even with her ever. I pick it up.

It's an old locket- very old. The silver has tarnished in a few places on the chain, and the metal on the egg sized locket has faded a bit. On the front of it is a pink, pale slightly faded flower- perhaps a rose- with vines and leaves of assorted colors of green surrounding it. When I pick it up it isn't very heavy, and it feels smooth and cold under my tanned fingertips. With a good polish, I might be able to get enough to get us through at least the next two weeks, until I can recieve my tessarae I apply for, and get my pay for my job. I open it, and surely there is a picture on the left of me, Cynthia, and Marco when we were younger, and a photograph of my father on the right. I take the slightly soiled photographs out of their places and reach over the bed to grab my small woolen pack to place it in.

I get up and head to closet; I have to look at least a little presentable to go to the market, or they definetly won't purchase. If I look nice at least a little, they'll think of me as from one of the more well off familes that is being an honest seller- not someone scamming them.

Trust me, they've been scammed plenty times before.

I open the closet and pull out another item of my mothers we've kept over the years- an old, simple blue dress. I just got tall enough to wear it- unfortunatly I'm very short. I just pull on my normal work boots, or the only shoes that fit on my abnormally small feet. In the old mirror on the dresser, I fix my appearence slightly.

My long, dark, very thick, wavy hair is at it's usually state of not being able to be tamed. I try patting it down, but eventually give up and pull the comb through it, and pull it back into some sort of a braid. There's not much I can do about my face. I still have the small, little innocent appearance, my hollow cheek bones protrouding due to under eating, and my nose small and slightly squat. The one piece I like on my face is my eyes- a deep gray blue with dark lashes. They are the one thing I seemed to have inherited from my mother- the beautiful eyes.

I sigh, knowing this isn't getting any better. I pick up my bag off the side of the bed, sling it around my body, and head into the other part of the room not portioned off by the blanket.

Little Cynthia is asleep on the bed in the middle of the room, Marco sitting in the chair beside it looking pretty bored, watching her. Their twin relationship is adorable, the way he cares for her. It almost makes me wish I had an older sibling or a twin- to have someone always looking after me. Cynthia is lucky, she has two.

"Marco?" I call out, to my little brother. He jolts out of his own world, and looking at me, with alike eyes. All three of us have them, and all three of us almost look the same. If she wasn't smaller then me, Cynthia and I could be twins. Marco pretty much looks like either of us in boy form.

"Yeah Spring?" He calls back at me, with bags under his eyes. This makes me a little depressed, he must've thought he had to stay awake in case peacekeepers come, because he thought I was asleep as well as Cynthia.

"I'm heading out for a bit," I sigh, knowing he won't like the rest of my statement, "Try to get some sleep."

"Where you going?" He asks, ignoring the last half of my words.

"To sell something of Mom's Marco. Get some sleep."

"Okay Spring, be careful." He settles back in his chair, and continues to look at his sister ever so carefully. I leave, knowing that he wouldn't listen to me no matter what I said. He's pretty headstrong like that.

Out into the woods I come, through the brambles and ivy that cover our little abandoned house, or probably the remains of the basement of an old house. Through miles of endless forest I go, no workers around in this area. The trees all around are very tempting; what I'd give to be able to run around in them and give all my cares away. But, that could never happen. Marco and Cynthia would die without me.

Under and over logs I go, the landmarks of this usual traveling being pointed out in my mind.

_There's the giant tree with the slashes in it. The bush shaped like a dog. The rock covered in a red moss that reminds me of blood._

After a while, I finally arrive at the city.

Perhaps in District 1 the citys are lined with flowers that make the city smell wonderful, and have happy people all walking around. If you imagine a flourishing, booming city when you picture the heart of District 11 you're quite honestly dead wrong.

Maybe the city was beautiful at the beginning of Panem, almost 500 years ago, but it's not that now at all. The cobblestone streets are now torn apart, along with the few fountains. Tree and flowers are dead, our peacekeepers being too lazy to pick them up. It's actually funny how they can be so strict, but hate to do the smallest, tedious tasks. People huddle around in hushed circles in their old dirty skirts and blouses with bandanas in their hair, only doing their business and leaving, fearing our peacekeepers.

I walk around quickly, mostly looking down, not wanting to attact any attention to myself. Even in 11 there are thieves. Some to take advantage of a small girl like me.

The market is near the center of our city, near the Mayor's home, Justice building, and the squre, where the reaping takes place every year.

In a week this horror will occur.

Yes, it also occurs on my birthday. It's the worse birthday out of any, in my opinion. Just to think of what would happen if I got reaped.

I mean, what a great birthday present, right?

I sigh and take a right turn, automatically facing our city market. It's the one place that might remind you a bit of a real city. All around people are arguing, and sometimes laughing, sharing memories with friends and enemies. At a few bars, people eat and drink, some older men swooning to the younger girls- disgusting it is.

Walking around, I find a jewelry dealer. I know this man; Reggie is his name. He comes from a poorer family that give good prices, especially around this day. A few years ago his younger brother went into the Games; we were sort of friends. We grew apart as he got older, and his mother died, therefore giving the jewelry business to him. I approach him, and he smiles.

"Hey Spring, how you doing?" He asks, cheering me up. The reaping is coming awfully soon, and he knows how worried I am with my number of slips.

"Hey Reggie.. I-I might have something to sell to you." I tell him, and he purses his lips and nods. Just my luck, he isn't interested in buying today.

"What you got?" He asks, maybe wondering if he'll find something good.

"A locket I found of my mothers," I open my bag and hand it to him, and he takes it gingerly, looking it over, "It might look bad now, but maybe with a little polishing and a new chain it could be really nice?" I try, very hopeful. He sighs, and I anxiously await my answer.

"I'll give you 30 for it." Wait. 30?

"But that'll barely get us enough up to the reaping!" I screech, scandalized. He looks down, and pretends to tinkle with the objects.

"We've known eachother for forever Reggie! Just- this once! You know the reaping is coming up, and my birthday is in a week.. Once I get pay I can pay you back!"

"Spring- I'm sorry. I can't do it- it'll hurt the business.."

I thought he trusted me. The hurt hits, then the anger. I snatch the locket from his hand, shove it in my bag, and walk away, trying not to cry. He tries to call after me, but I'm done.

I thought, after all these years, he might give us a break. He knows we live illegally in the forest, and what we go through. What _I_ go through to keep the twins together.

I'm running, but not to my family, I'm not ready to tell the twins they'll go through another day or two of starving, unless..

We can't steal. No. I won't allow it. I'm raising children; I've got to do at least that right.

I push the thought from my mind and move a bit faster.

I decide to go to the one place where I can be sane: the orchards.

It's a beautiful place where I work, being the skinny, short person I am. There are others there, but I hardly socialize. I just try to pick as much fruit as possible: More fruit equals more pay. More pay equals more food to feed my small family.

It's also the place where I can escape into my euphoria, and leave everything behind. Relaxing in a tree, looking at the simple beautiful sunset of District 11..

Yes. That's where I'll head.

I run down the dirt paths, soon getting the hardly used street that blocks the fields and town from the orchards. As I approach it, the occasional car that passes by decides to come by. It does, splattering my mother's dress with mud from the ground.

I scream all my worries after that car, and run blindly into the forest. Tears prick my eyes, and that silly businessman, probably from the Capitol, just made my day even worse. Now, I'm not trusted and one of my mother's favorite outfits has been ruined.

In short summary, this just isn't my day.

I reach a tree, and climb it. Glancing over, I see a bird picking at a fruit, and watch closely as it takes off with it. Just then I realize how hungry I truly am, and the growling takes over.

I need to eat.

The only way is to steal.

It seems different in this situation. I don't care about stealing here, because it all goes to the Capitol and not the betterment of our people. I leap over to the branch and pick up the fruit, letting everything pour through my head as I take a bite.

I'm not trusted, even by my closest friends. I'm an orphan, pretty much, with no one who cares. I've got siblings, but they're young. Too young to be introduced to this hell hole of a world they've already introduced too.

There's no one left to be truly looking out for me.

Which is why I'm very surprised when I hear a tiny voice behind me speak.

"You know you shouldn't just eat stuff like that; it could be poisonous."

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><p><strong>AN: Like? No like? Review my friends, please! :) **


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